The Clock Above the Door
by D-Scythe
Summary: Wuffie and the others have been captured sometime durring episode ten. Now each must try and sort out their thoughts before they are led to their fates.


Wuffie ground his teeth together and slammed his fist into the cold metal wall of the holding cell

Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, I do not own Gundam Wing or any of it characters. Oh well, maybe some other time.

Author's Note: Hi everybody. I know its been a while since I posted anything. Sorry I've been swamped. There is just a little romance at the end. I'm not sure how I got the idea for this fic. I think I was listening to my Goo Goo Dolls CD too much and got overly depressed. I hope you enjoy this. **WARNING: IF YOU DON'T LIKE DEATH FICS, DO _NOT_ READ THIS.** I think I've made my point. Enjoy.

****

The Clock Above the Door

Wuffie ground his teeth together and slammed his fist into the cold metal wall of the holding cell. His companions in the cell ignored the action. It had been repeated many times over the past three days.

Each pilot was lost in their own thoughts. Duo paced the length of the cell, his brown braid swinging back and forth rhythmically as he sadly shook his head. 

Quatre sat hunched in the far corner. He stared out of the small window that led to the outside, a far-away look in his eyes. Tears clouded his blue eyes as they reflected the powder-blue sky outside the tiny, barred window. With a sob, he dropped his head into his hands.

Trowa lay on his metal bunk and stared up at the ceiling. His expression was unreadable.

Heero leaned against a wall with his arms folded. A clock above the door showed the time in glowing red numbers. Heero watched as the seconds ticked inevitably towards their demise.

The gallows were visible through a long plate glass window that took up most of the front wall. Dust blew across the barren courtyard. The gallows seemed the perfect addition to the place. The ruins appeared to be some sort of old palace that had fallen into disrepair. The crude wooden construction fit the feel of dilapidated grandeur well.

Wuffie screwed his eyes shut and ground his teeth viciously. A strangled sob rose in his throat. He slammed his fist down again. And again, and again. With a howl of rage he began to pound the wall, the impacts echoing hollowly throughout the cell. Hot tears began to leak from his tightly shut eyes. He could stand the fact they had been captured. He could accept that they would die. He could even take the fact that their mission had failed. What the couldn't take was that it was his fault…

* * *

The Taurus shipment operation was in full swing. The convoys were off on both the land and sea routes. _I hadn't even planned to go. I was still too ashamed to pilot Nataku after Trieze defeated me. But no! I decided that I had to prove myself and help destroy those convoys._

Wuffie had arrived late in the operation, just in time to see the flight-type Gundam engaged in combat with a mysterious white suit. With the aerial convoy roaring overhead after its refueling stop, he decided to begin the destruction. He was among the transports like a wolf among sheep. Fire blazed from his extendible dragon arm, burning planes from the sky. He whirled his beam-pike expertly, bisecting carrier. 

A troop of Aries swarmed in at him, cannons blazing. The suits were dispatched of with ease. All seemed to be going well.

Suddenly a woman in a Colonial's uniform appeared on his screen. She stared severely over the tops of her horn-rimmed glasses. "Attention Gundam pilots…"

- - -

Zechs glared at Lady Une's image as her flickering visage appeared on his screen. _I don't want to do this. These pilots are noble and skilled. This is sickening. But I have no choice._

"Attention Gundam pilots. I hereby order you to stand down and surrender."

__

I can't believe I've sunk this low. Trieze will hate me forever.

"If you do not comply, the colonies will be destroyed."

__

No stopping it now, Zechs thought disgustedly.

Colonial Une's image flickered onto the private channel. "Colonial Zechs, I trust everything is prepared…"

- - -

Wuffie stared at the Colonial, half in rage, half in disbelief. _Use the colonies as a shield? No way! It must be a bluff._

Shrugging, he decided to let it play out for the moment. The power to Nataku's thrusters cut, and the Gundam dropped gracefully to the ground. He noticed that the flight type Gundam and the mysterious white suit had stopped fighting for the moment as well.

Suddenly an Arabian boy with blonde hair appeared on the monitor. "All Gundam pilots! I tapped a secure frequency. It's a trap! Do not engage! Repeat, it's a trap! Everyone fall back now!"

__

Another Gundam? It must be another trick! Wuffie watched as the flight type leapt into the air on a retreat course. _He fell for it? What a fool!_

Wuffie snarled at the Arabian. "You don't fool me!"

"No! Wait!" The boy shouted. "Stop, please!" Wuffie snapped a switch and the communications monitor clicked off.

Nataku burst upwards, beam pike and dragon-arm blazing. Suddenly silvery spheres burst from the ground below. They slammed into Wuffie's Gundam with enough force to tear a normal mobile suit to pieces. The spheres stuck to the Gundanium like magnets. All of Wuffie's power failed.

Nataku plummeted towards the ground. The impact threw Wuffie forward into his restraints. His head lashed forward and cracked a monitor. Auxiliary power snapped on and the monitors sprang to life.

The flight type had turned to see what had happened to Nataku. More magnets brought him to the ground as well. On the horizon, he could just make out a third suit, this one with a large machine gun for an arm succumb to a similar fate.

__

No way! It's my fault. This is my fault!…

* * *

Wuffie stopped pounding the wall and let his head rest against it. What had followed was not even clear. Some sort of stun gas had been employed. Troops had opened the cockpit and dragged him out. He hadn't even been able to resist. His next lucid memory was of awakening here, in a cell with three strangers and the Arabian who had tried to save them all.

The sun was high over head. The clock read one minute to noon. They all knew what would happen at noon. At noon, they would have one less cell-mate.

Heero watched the clock and let his thoughts drift one last time…

* * *

Oz had decided to demonstrate to the Gundam pilots that they had truly been defeated. Under heavy guard, they had been marched out into the courtyard, completely bound, no chance of escape. Their Gundams had been lined up on the horizon. One by one, they had detonated. 

Heero watched impassively as his mighty Gundam disintegrated into a roiling fire-ball. Angry black smoke rose from the collapsing suit and shrapnel rained into the surrounding desert. The final charge blew and the mighty suit lurched forward, plowing into the sand with its hand outstretched as if seeking help. Then it burned, and with it burned humanity's last home.

Quatre, the Arabian had looked stricken when his suit was destroyed. "Sandrock," he murmured, "I'm sorry."

The Chinese boy stared at the ground and muttered, "I have failed you."

Duo shook his head, "So long, buddy."

Trowa said nothing.

They were marched silently back to the cell.

* * *

At precisely twelve noon, the window went opaque, plunging the cell into darkness. The door hissed open and all the boys covered their eyes. Two guards ducked in and covered the cell with their Uzis. A man silhouetted in the door spoke in a cultured voice.

"Pilot 01, Heero Yui. It is time." 

Heero straightened silently and strode towards the door. The two guards backed out carefully, making sure to keep the pilots covered at all times. The man in the doorway stepped aside and allowed Heero and the guards to pass. The door shut with a his. Duo stopped pacing and stepped over to the window to watch Heero's progress across the court-yard.

Suddenly, Heero dropped. His left foot lashed out and snapped the ankle of the guard next to him. The guard shrieked in agony and dropped like a stone.

Heero was off like a shot. He dodged and weaved across the courtyard. For a moment, it seemed he would make it. This illusion was shattered by the sound of gunfire that ripped through the still desert air. the other guards had recovered from their shock and opened fire on Heero's retreating form. A bullet ripped through Heero's shoulder, another shattered his leg. He went down with a grunt and threw up a gust of sand.

Three guards tackled him, snapping binders around his hands and feet. Heero was dragged roughly to his feet and hauled towards the gallows. Despite his injuries, Heero bucked back and forth in an attempt to throw the grips of his captors. A guard kicked him in the gut, causing Heero to double over in pain. The guard continued to pummel Heero's body, until Heero vomited up blood and the guard was satisfied that he would offer no more resistance.

He was hauled from the sandy ground and dragged towards the gallows once more. His limp form was carried up the wooden steps. Heero recovered enough that he could stand.

The guard that had beaten him shoved him roughly towards the executioner. The executioner flicked the noose around Heero's head expertly. When it was correctly tightened, the executioner stepped back. A brown-haired man in a distinguished uniform nodded. The executioner grasped the trap-door lever.

__

Crack!

The sound of trap-door dropping was just loud enough to mask another sound produced by the pulling of the lever:

The sound of Heero Yui's neck snapping.

His body hung limply from the gallows. The executioner waited a moment, then approached and confirmed the boy dead. His body was lowered and carted off like a sagging sack of grain.

Duo stared out of the cell, an utterly horrified expression on his face. "He's actually gone." His horror turned quickly to rage. "You bastards!" He screamed, slamming his fist against the glass, "You wouldn't even let him die fighting!"

Trowa stood and joined Duo at the window. "They know that as soldiers, we feel it is our due to die in some sort of noble battle. By depriving us of even that honor, they prove how utterly they have defeated us."

Duo shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, "I swear, if I go, I'll go down fighting, I'll go down as the God of Death!"

Trowa merely nodded and turned back to his bunk.

Duo rested his forehead against the cool glass and remembered. 

* * *

Deathscythe went down hard. The thermal beam-scythe sputtered and died and the lights in the mighty suit's eyes dimmed. "What the hell?!" Duo screamed. All his power was dead. "Common buddy, wake up!" He punched the emergency start button repeatedly with no affect. "Oh man, I better get out of here."

Fumbling in the dark, he felt around the edge of the hatch. After a moment he found what he was looking for. Depressing a small switch, Duo looked away. A bright flash shone through his eyelids and left stars dancing in his vision. duo blinked rapidly. there was a small blast and the suit rocked slightly._ Good thing the doc added these escape charges with an independent power source._ The hatch sailed out away from the suit and left Duo's way to freedom clear.

Or it would have been, had a platoon of Oz soldiers not had their guns leveled at him. Off to the side, he could see the white Gundam he had been fighting along-side lying on its back. _I see the party's just begun._

Before any of the soldiers could react, Duo whipped a pistol from the holster at his back and opened fire at the soldiers. While he was doing this, he threw himself to the side, avoiding the return fire of the soldiers.

Duo twisted in mid-air and landed silently in the brush. Using the thick bushes as cover, he began to make his way away from the battle-field.

He smelled the gas an instant before it paralyzed him from the neck down. Floodlights snapped on, illuminating the area where Duo lay with a harsh white light. Stark, black silhouettes rose into Duo's vision, each an Oz soldier with a gas mask.

They cuffed his wrists and dragged him to his feet. Then he was hustled along to a waiting prisoner transport. Inside, the Arabian was hand-cuffed, quite uselessly, considering his paralysis, to a bar that ran along the inner wall of the transport. Duo was shoved in beside him and cuffed to the same bar.

Quatre looked horrified, "They got you too?"

"'Fraid so." Duo replied.

"Why didn't you escape?"

"Couldn't leave a friend hanging."

Realization dawned on the blonde's face, "It's my fault?" he asked a quaver in his voice.

Duo shook his head sadly and gestured outside with a flick oh his head. "No, It's their fault."

* * *

Time moved strangely in the cell, Each second felt like an hour, each minute, like a year. Yet somehow, they slipped away and the inevitable hour arrived. Duo had spent most of his last hour pacing and staring out at the gallows. Every now and then he would sigh and shake his head, then continue pacing.

One o'clock. The window went opaque once more. The guards entered they same way they had last time. The man with the brown hair and the cultured voice spoke again.

"Pilot 02, Duo Maxwell. It is time."

Duo exited the cell with hunched shoulders. Once he had set foot outside the cell, he lashed out at guards around him. Snarling and screaming, he punched, kicked, bit, and clawed. The guards piled on, attempting to pin him to the ground. Their efforts were to no avail. Duo fought with the rage and wild abandon of a cornered beast.

He clawed his way free of the guards. A soldier loomed up in front of him and brought the butt of his rifle crashing against Duo's face. Bone and cartilage snapped, teeth broke, soft tissue burst. All the fight left Duo and his unconscious body slumped loosely to the ground. Blood streamed from his nose, mouth, and one eye.

The guards contemptuously hauled duo upright as a tooth fell from his limply hanging mouth to land in a sticky puddle of blood dripping from his face. His unconscious body was dragged up the steps to the gallows. 

Again, the executioner tightened the noose around his charge's neck. After stepping back, he waited for the signal. The lever pulled again.

__

Crack!

Duo's body swayed gently back and forth, his braid swinging loosely in the breeze. The executioner nodded and pulled the body down. A burly warden slung it over his shoulder and carried away the mortal remains of Duo Maxwell, God of Death.

Quatre's face contorted into an uncontrollably anguished visage. He clawed at his chest as if his heart would give out. Pearly tears welled in his eyes, but he swiped them away before they could fall. Screaming he burst forward and launched himself at the window. Howling with pain and rage and grief, the small blonde pounded savagely at the unrelenting glass. "There's no meaning! No purpose! Why?" He spun around and screamed at Trowa, "Why the hell is this necessary?!"

Trowa shrugged. "I don't know. If I understood that, I wouldn't need to fight Oz, I wouldn't need to fight at all."

Quatre balled his fists angrily and stormed back to the far corner of the cell.

Trowa watched him go and felt the slightest bit of sorrow in his heart for the kind child who had been thrust into war. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Trowa remembered the interrogation. If it could be called an interrogation. Each of them had been dragged into a separate sterile room, the effects of the stun gas only beginning to wear off. Each room contained a single metal chair, and a utilitarian metal table in the corner. Dominating the room was a reclining chair. It would have resembled a dentist's chair, but the binders and various bladed and needled appendages banished any illusions about the benign nature of the device.

Each pilot had been strapped tightly into the chair. An orderly had entered carrying a clip-board. After placing it on the table, they moved to the controls at the side of the chair.

Blinding lights snapped on over-head. Trowa felt a needle jab into the side of his neck. He was filled with a sudden compulsion to sleep. His mouth went dry, and he felt as though his bones had turned to ice.

A low humming began, it felt like a bee was trapped at the base of his skull, the sensation was maddening. As he experienced these feelings, Trowa tried to determine the interrogation methods being used on him. He found that the humming made concentration impossible.

Then the first jolt of pain hit. It was like a bolt of lightening striking the base of his spine. Every nerve in his body fired at once. His body convulsed and threw itself against the restraints. He strained against the metal confinements, back arched and screaming. He vomited. He had spasms. He wet himself. All in the space of an instant.

Pain receptors fired randomly across his body, causing him to spasm uncontrollably. He wanted to curl into a ball but the drug prevented it.

A snapped off question from the orderly knifed through the storm of pain that was Trowa's world. "What is your name?"

Trowa desperately wanted to answer. The drugs formed a small voice at the center of his mind. A tiny island of lucidity in the middle of a raging storm. _Tell them what they want. That is the only way this will end. You know that it is what you must do._

Without truly being aware of it, Trowa screamed, "I don't have a name!"

"What is you're name?"

"I don't know!"

"What is your name?"

Trowa searched wildly in his mind for an answer that would make them stop. _Tell them the truth and they'll stop,_ said the drug.

"They call me Trowa!" He screamed.

"Last name?"

"Barton!"

"Are you a Gundam pilot?"

"Yes!"

The lights snapped off, the noise faded and the pain began to recede.

"The interrogation has ended, Pilot 03."

* * *

Trowa had been surprised. He had expected to be forced to reveal the exact location of his Gundam's production site. He expect to be grilled for every aspect of his training, despite the fact his coming to pilot the Gundam Heavyarms was a mistake, and forced to betray every detail of Operation: Meteor.

But they had only asked two questions. Just enough rope to hang him, apparently. Hang him…

Trowa glanced up at the clock. 1:57.

"Quatre."

Quatre looked up in surprise. "What is it Trowa?"

A single tear gathered in the corner of Trowa's eye. "Don't blame yourself."

Quatre stood up and balled his fists. "And why shouldn't I? I didn't warn you soon enough!"

The tear trickled slowly down Trowa's face. "It is not your fault."

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not. Stop blaming yourself. Your tears will change nothing. There is only one thing you can do now."

"What?"

"Pray that there will be others who have your kindness and compassion when we are gone."

The window went opaque.

* * *

Quatre stared somberly out of the window. Trowa had gone without a fight. The guards had appeared at the door and Trowa had stood without saying a word. After glancing at Quatre one last time, he allowed himself to be led to the gallows. Now his body hung from a thick rope attached to rickety wooden construction in the middle of a dusty courtyard. 

__

Pray that there will be others who have your kindness and compassion when we are gone. Don't worry Trowa, Quatre thought,_ I will._

Quatre glanced at Wufie. He had reacted to nothing since Heero Yui's escape attempt. He sat on a cold metal bench with his eyes closed and his arms crossed.

"Wuffie." Quatre said. The Chinese boy did not react. "Wuffie."

"What?"

"I just wanted to say good-bye."

Wuffie lay down on his side and turned away. "I deserve no such honor."

"What do you mean?"

"This is all my fault." 

Quatre shook his head. "No, it's not." Wuffie did not stir. "Wuffie, it's not your fault. Wuffie…"

Quatre grimaced and turned away. The courtyard faced west. It was somehow fitting to see the sun dipping towards the horizon through the bombed out arch of the entry gate. _Our sun has truly set._

* * *

Quatre recalled a far different desert. It had no sand, no dusty wind. It had no air. It was an obsidian expanse that stretched endlessly into eternity. Small points of light pricked the void, a whirl of diamonds upon a black velvet cloth. At the center of this display was a pristine emerald and sapphire. White tendrils of cloud played and chased lazily across its surface.

Sighing, Quatre turned away from the massive view-port that made up the back wall of his father's office. He turned fully to face his father. Mr. Winner was turned away with his hands jammed into his pockets.

"Father," Quatre began, "I-"

"No!" His father whirled around to face him. "I forbid you!"

"You forbid me to do what is right?"

"I forbid you to betray this family!"

"I would rather betray this family by taking action than betray the millions of people on Earth by doing nothing!"

"You!" His father jabbed a finger at him. "What do you know of such things? Why are you willing to discard everything I've tried to accomplish in my life? Why do you ignore all that I've taught you?"

"You taught me to be compassionate! I must do this in order to save lives! Isn't that compassion?"

"Must?" His father exclaimed incredulously, "What do you know of what must be done?"

Quatre gazed pleadingly at his father. "I know that it is better to sacrifice an ideal to preserve lives than to sacrifice lives in order to preserve an ideal."

"You understand nothing!" Hi father bellowed. "I have been in charge of this colony for thirty years! You presume to know better than I what is best for its citizens?"

"All I know is what my heart tells me. My heart ells me that the Alliance is wrong."

"Their tactics may be oppressive, but that's only because of the violence caused by revolutionary groups. I never should have allowed you to be tutored by that eccentric fool of a scientist. He's the one who's filled your mind with all this foolishness!"

Quatre balled his fists, "He only tried to open my eyes to life beyond this colony!"

"He's subverted you to his violent ways!"

"Father, do you really think that the alliance cares what happens to the colonies?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"Do you? They're only using the colonies as tools to consolidate power on Earth!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

Quatre turned away. "I'm sorry, father." He took a deep breath and began to walk towards the door.

"Quatre come back!" Quatre ignored him and walked determinedly through the door.

"Quatre!"

The door whooshed shut behind him. Quatre began to run towards the hanger.

He didn't look back…

* * *

Wuffie watched as Quatre was led to the gallows. Quatre went without a struggle. the fair-haired Arabian kept his head high as he was led to his fate. Wuffie watched impassively as the noose was fitted around his neck. The executioner took a step back.

__

Crack!

Quatre hung swinging from the gallows. But something was wrong. He was still squirming and kicking. Quatre was to light. His weight was insufficient to snap his neck. Now he would suffer for many hours before finally being strangled to death. Wuffie slammed his fist against the window. The boy didn't deserve this kind of death. Of all of them, he was the one who should have gone easily.

"Damn!"

Wuffie glanced at the clock: 3:01

* * *

Wuffie watched as his colony exploded. Everything he had known was now a rapidly expanding ball of gas. His only home was swiftly being reduced to melting slag and free floating ions. The fires began to burn out as they expended the last of the colony's oxygen.

Wuffie threw his head back and screamed. He screamed until his lungs hurt and his throat was soar. he slumped forward, breathing heavily, and tried to force away the image that was being burned into his mind.

The destruction of his colony tore a hole into Wuffie's heart. It was almost as deep as the one that had been torn into it only weeks before. When he had watched a similar fire engulf something else he loved: his wife.

Now his Gundam hung above the scene of his home's destruction. He gasped for breath, trying to reconcile the pain, trying to make some sense of what had happened.

__

No honor! he thought. _There is no justice! Humans have no justice!_

He turned his Gundam to face the planet spinning beneath him.

"Come on Earth! Show me what your sense of justice really is!"

* * *

5:01

Quatre ceased his increasingly weak movements. the executioner paused a moment, then approached and felt his wrist. He nodded to his two assistants and they slowly pulled down his small body. He looked even smaller and more frail in death. He was a kind person, a person whose personality had enlarged him in life, and left him a small shell in death.

The window did not opaque. There was no point, no need for the prisoners to be disoriented. Now there was only one. Wuffie could see clearly as a man in a Colonial's uniform approached the cell, flanked by four guards. As the man drew near, his features became recognizable in the failing light.

__

Trieze?!

Wuffie stared in disbelief. There was no denying it, Trieze Kushrenada, Oz leader and Wuffie's sworn enemy, was walking towards him, preparing to take him to his death. _Of course! I should have recognized his voice!_

Trieze and his entourage arrived at the cell door. Wuffie saw him turn and address his guards, but Wuffie could not hear what was said. After a moment, the head guard saluted and all four stepped back a pace.

Trieze approached the door alone. It opened with a slight hiss.

"Hello Zero-Five."

Wuffie nodded in a non-committal fashion. "Trieze."

"I don't expect you to understand what I have tried to do. I'm sorry to say that I will never have the chance to show you. I'm also sorry to say that you are here because I failed."

"What do you mean?"

Trieze's head lowered just a bit, barely perceptible. "History has now embarked on a path that I am unable to change. Pilots like you and your comrades are precious. Because of my failure, your kind, my kind, _our _kind, will now be replaced by soulless machines."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry Wuffie. I have been truly honored to have known you." Trieze turned to go.

'Trieze! Come back here! I don't understand!" Wuffie shouted and ran towards the open door. Trieze did not turn, but nodded to his guards. They jumped upon Wuffie and cuffed his hands and feet. They then began to drag him towards the gallows.

Wuffie was struck by the unreality of it all. His senses seemed heightened and time slowed. He could smell the rich desert air, feel the cool, evening breeze playing across his skin. The wind caused little whirlwinds of sand. To Wuffie they appeared almost frozen, slowly shifting and changing in and endless dance.

Almost before, he realized it, Wuffie found himself being hauled up the wooden steps of the gallows. The executioner grabbed him roughly. Wuffie could see the calluses on the mans hands. The noose was lowered around Wuffie's neck.

But Wuffie was no longer there. He was sitting under a tree in a field of flowers, surrounded by books. He could see someone running across the field towards him. He rose and opened his arms, preparing to embrace his wife.

* * *

Trieze stood on a balcony above the courtyard. On a table to his side stood a decanter of dark red wine and two glasses. In his hand, he clutched a vial full of whit powder. He turned as he heard measured footsteps approaching him.

"Lady Une, thank you for coming."

"Of course. What is it you wished to talk to me about?"

"I have failed."

Lady Une looked confused, "I don't understand. The Gundams have been destroyed and their pilots are dead. How have you failed?"

Trieze turned away and stared at the setting sun. "I love battle. But battle is only beautiful when it is fought between humans with hearts and ideals. This made the Gundams symbols. Symbols I would have used to finally create peace. Unfortunately, Romafeller forced my hand and now I do not think I can sway them from the path they have chosen. I have lost the ability to influence history and so, my purpose has come to an end."

"What will you do now?"

Trieze turned and showed her the vial. He uncorked the decanter and poured the white powder into it.

Lady Une nodded. "I understand. It has been an honor to serve with you."

Trieze poured two glasses and handed her one. He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then, holding her tightly, he said, "I propose a toast. A toast to the future we could have made."

Lady Une smiled and touched her glass to his. then they turned to watch the sun set. After glancing at each other one last time, they drank.

* * *

Zechs sat in his cockpit as the message from Trieze ended. Smiling, he spoke to the recording, "I will see you soon Trieze." then he switched his channel so he could speak to the white Torus suit next to him. "Noin are you ready?'

"Of course Zechs. I've sent our message to Miss Releena. Perhaps she will be able to make peace happen without us."

Zechs nodded, "At any rate, We're about to remove a large obstacle from her path to peace."

"I love you Zechs."

"I love you too Noin."

The two suits burst from their cover in tandem. They crossed the distance between their starting location and their target in seconds. As they blazed across the lake, water sprayed high in their wake. Suddenly they were upon the ornate building. Though Zechs couldn't read the sign as he passed, he knew what it said: Romafeller Estate.

Their suits came crashing through the entrance and into the center of the complex. They hit their self-destruct buttons at the same time and the entire estate was engulfed in white flames.

* * *

In an empty cell in a deserted complex in a barren desert, there is a clock above the door. I reads 6:00.

The last traces of the sun disappear beyond the horizon.

END

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